


Natural Selection

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-01
Updated: 2004-09-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: An unnecessary complication of a pleasant simplicity?





	Natural Selection

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Natural Selection

### Natural Selection

#### by Claire Dobbin

  


Natural Selection  
by  
Claire Dobbin 

( Written for Bertina with thanks for all the patient beta-ing! ) 

Alex flopped down into his seat and tried to catch his breath. The crazy sprint to the departure gate was becoming the norm. He nearly hadn't made it this time. The flight attendant was already swinging the plane door closed when he reached it and the man's fixed corporate smile did not begin to cover the annoyance he felt at having to redo the head count. Fox's newfound fascination with airport sex was getting out of hand - literally. Alex would have to find a way to deal with the problem. Enjoyable though it was to give Fox what he wanted, spending two hours on a plane in the 'hot and bothered' condition that inevitably resulted from each men's room or storage cupboard tussle was no fun at all. Besides, they were going to get caught. It was only a matter of time, and when it happened . well, so much for keeping a low profile. He winced mentally. The repercussions from such exposure just didn't bear thinking about. As soon as the plane was airborne and the seat belt sign had been switched off, he took down his carry all from the overhead locker and headed for the toilet. Grateful for the generous dimensions of the first class facilities, he stripped off his shirt and prosthesis and filled the sink. When he had freshened up and brushed his teeth, he splashed on a generous amount of aftershave and strapped his prosthesis back on. Putting on a clean shirt, he repacked his bag and returned to his seat. The flight attendant was serving refreshments and he ordered vodka on the rocks. Tipping back his seat, he settled into the comfortable leather upholstery and sipped at his drink. His eyes drifted closed. The thought of a catnap was appealing, but his mind and body were far too energized for sleep - a week of crazed unpredictability and 'anything goes' lovemaking had seen to that. Careful not to dwell on any memory that would get him all 'hot and bothered' again, he thought about the intense week they had spent together. It was as if Mulder was making up for all the life and sex . and love . he'd missed out on during his nine years working the X Files. For most of which time, the two of them had been at each other's throats - a squeeze on a trigger away from ending it all. Alex shivered involuntarily despite the warmth of the aircraft's controlled environment and turned onto his side. He struggled with the worst of the memories for a minute or two before beating them back into the small, dark place where they lived. They had made it, that was all that mattered, and since his own life had been no picnic up until the night in the Hoover parking garage when he and Mulder and Skinner had decided to fuck the real bastards instead of each other, he had his own share of missed life and sex and .yes, even love . to make up for. So far, it had been magical. Ten months of belonging and closeness - so good it made him want to weep. Not even the unavoidable leave taking and being apart could make him feel down and, on the upside, each separation brought the joy of coming home to the arms of a keen and demanding lover. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain. We are preparing to make our final approach into Dulles. Please move your seatbacks to the upright position and fasten your seatbelts." Alex sat up and looked at his reflection in the dark window. He raked his hand through his unruly hair a few times before giving up on it, then as the plane banked for the final time, he watched the runway landing lights come into view. Beyond them, the city sparkled and shimmered in the blackness of the February night. At the sight a frisson of anticipation rippled through him. Less than a year ago, if he had been told that Washington D.C. would one day be a place of refuge, instead of the killing field he had come to know, he would not have believed it. Yet here it lay before him like a beacon guiding him home to a different, though equally important. part of his life. True, Fox could not be with him here and that hurt, but he had to be realistic. Besides Fox had found his perfect little 'Mayberry' - one convenient enough to Manhattan to keep him sane - where he was happy and content "Thank you for flying with North Eastern," the attendant said, going through the patter. "Please remember to take all your personal items with you as you leave. We hope you have enjoyed your flight and that we can welcome you aboard again in the near future." Alex stood up and stretched. The attendant brought his heavy winter jacket and held it open for him. Taking his bag from the locker he made his way off the plane. A first class ticket and no checked in baggage meant he was entering the arrivals lounge only a minute or two later. He glanced around the big, anonymous space and at the steady stream of people passing through. He was all too familiar with how lonely it could be to arrive at a destination unnoticed, unclaimed - that was why he loved watching the way Walter's anxious expression disappeared beneath a broad grin the split second he caught sight of his lover. Alex hurried over to greet him and slipped unselfconsciously into the hug that was offered. "It's been a long two weeks, Alex," Walter whispered into his ear. As always, a wave of guilt swept through Alex Krycek. As always, he let it wash straight through and flow on to where it rightly belonged. Which was only fair, since he had no problem with the situation as currently configured. He found it incredibly easy to love both his men and in doing so he saw no conflict, felt no contradiction. If anyone had a problem, it was Fox and Walter - or rather they would have, if they ever found out about the three dimensional nature of the relationship they all shared. Fortunately for him, both remained in blissful ignorance and he offered up a silent invocation that it remain always so. "Let's go home," Alex said, pulling back to get a good look at his handsome lover. Walter grinned again and took the bag from his hand. Purposefully, they strode out of the building and headed for the short stay car park. Alex followed Walter into the house and sniffed the air appreciatively. A mouth watering smell told him that one of Walter's specialities, his homemade cinnamon apple pie, was already prepared and waiting to be served. "Ice cream too?" he asked, throwing his jacket across the back of a convenient sofa. "Uh-huh," Walter confirmed, hanging the discarded jacket up in the hall closet, "and how does classic beef stroganoff and crisp fried oyster mushrooms sound?" "Sounds great."  
"It'll be ready in fifteen minutes or so." "That'll give me time to hit the shower." "Sure . if you want ... but first . "  
He took hold of Alex's face in both hands and began a long and lingering kiss. Determined to deepen the contact, Alex feathered the tip of his tongue across Walter's lips and retreated, enticing him to follow. It worked and immediately Walter began plundering his mouth with the single-minded determination of a man who'd been deprived of his lover for too damned long. Alex worked his thigh in between Walter's legs and pressed against the urgent arousal. At the sound of the approving growl, he reached down to knead Walter's ass. "Umm . time out, Alex . " Walter muttered pulling away, ". unlike me, the night is young . I want to do this in the comfort of our bed." "Mmm . " Alex acquiesced reluctantly, taking a minute or two to gather his wits. He straightened up. "Shower," he said.  
"Shower," Walter agreed.  
Alex detoured round the exquisitely clean and well-ordered kitchen to pilfer some cookies from the jar. Walter's spatula landed with a sharp slap on his rear just as his hand slid beneath the lid. "Hey!" he complained.  
"Only one," Walter warned.  
"Sure thing, babe," Alex promised, moving the jar out of range and helping himself to two large coconut crme cookies. **"ALEX!"**  
Walter's roar followed him out the kitchen and all the way upstairs to the bedroom. He munched on a cookie as he stripped, leaving a trail of clothes behind him on his way to the bathroom. With the door safely closed, he unzipped his bag and took out a cell phone. He thumbed a speed dial number and leaned back against the door. The call clicked its way through half a dozen relays and was answered on the second ring. "Alex?"  
"Who else, babe?"  
"No one but you, rat."  
There was an unexpected backwash of guilt. "Alex ... you there?"  
"What? Oh, yeah ... sure ... "  
"Is everything okay?"  
"Everything's fine, babe. Just missing you, I guess." "Same here, rat. The house is very empty and very lonely." "I know, babe, I know," Alex told him. "But hey, just think, with no distractions you'll finally be able to get that pissy chapter finished ... then when I get back - " "Don't want to finish the chapter, "Mulder interrupted. "Want you ." he murmured, his voice turning silkily seductive " ... inside me ... now ..." "Fox," Alex warned, "we agreed we weren't going to do this." "No, you agreed we weren't going to do this ... all by yourself. I don't like it all by myself any more. That's your fault, Alex, so why we can't we have phone sex like normal people beats the hell out of me." "Because what we have is too special for that, sweetheart. I don't want to make love to you lying in some anonymous hotel room where our only connection is an unsecured phone line ." A needy moan, travelling at the speed of light from upstate New York, insinuated itself into his shell-like and sent a high voltage jolt of arousal ping-ponging around all his erogenous zones. He looked down at Little Alex, who was staring up at him cheekily - clearly irritated by the pronounced lack of follow-through that had marred the day's activities. Clamping down on the responsive groan gathering in his gut, he moved swiftly on. "I want to keep our lovemaking for when we're together, Fox ... when I can look into your eyes ... feel your skin on mine ... smell your scent -" "Oh yeah, babe, tell me how I feel ... how I smell ..." "Oh for crying out loud," Alex shouted, realising too late that he was the one crying out loud. He opened the door fractionally, stuck his head out through the gap and listened. The only sounds filtering up from below were of cheerful whistling and the occasional clank of saucepans. "Alex? ALEX?"  
He withdrew into the bathroom and softly closed the door. "Yeah."  
"Is something wrong? I'm serious here." "Everything's fine. I'm just tired ... and missing you ... and the ride in from the airport didn't help. It was hell on wheels." "I'll bet. If I had a dollar for every minute I've spent inching along the Beltway ... hey, you know what? I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but suddenly I feel kinda homesick for - " Alex felt an anticipatory dread well up in him. " - the old stomping ground. Why don't I catch the next flight down? I could be there in -" The adrenaline surge was so intense that Alex felt as if the bathroom walls were rushing towards him. "No!" he stated with finality, beginning to pace back and forth across the confined space. "I mean ... that's not a good idea, sweetheart. I've got a full schedule for the week ... starting tomorrow ... with a really early breakfast meeting." "Oh." There was a lengthy pause and then, "Sure, I understand." The long distance dejection was palpable. "Look, sweetheart, I want you here with me -" Feeling totally conflicted, Alex screwed up his face before ploughing on. " - you know that ... but this .. arrangement has worked out okay and if it ain't broke ... " "S'okay, babe. You're right ... about the chapter too ... no way can I miss the deadline again. Gerry will have my balls." Alex laughed with relief.  
"Uh-uh, those he can't have. Not if he wants to keep his own." Mulder snorted. "That's my Alex, straight to the ... um ... crux of the matter." "Well, I don't know about straight, but I gotta tell you, babe, your 'crux' is no small matter to me," Alex answered, his voice becoming a sultry whisper. There was an audible gulp down the line, but Fox Mulder was never slow on the uptake. "Made a big impression on you has it, Alex?" he asked in a tone that matched sultry with ease and bumped the stakes up to out and out suggestive. If it makes him happy, thought Alex, what the hell? After all, hadn't his own life experience been one long proof that rules were meant to be broken? Besides, there was the undeniable spice of danger about it. "Oh yeah, you could say that. In fact, I can still feel the impression it made last night." "We aim to please."  
"Wanna please me now?"  
A sound that could have been made by an eager puppy, bounded down the phone line. Alex snorted. "I'll take that as a yes. Now, I want you to go into the bedroom and put the phone on speaker. Don't do anything else." The was a scrambling sound, then a heavy thud followed by several muttered curses. Alex raised his eyes heavenward. Apparently, Fox had managed to return the house to its customary state of chaos in the few hours that had elapsed since his departure. Why the fuck do I bother? He mused, silently. "Okay, m'here," Fox told him breathlessly. "That's good, babe. Now, I want you to go get the lube and 'Ole Yeller'." More scrambling - this time through their 'toy' drawer in search of the specified dildo, the one named for their boyhood hero because of its colour, because it never let you down and because it made you feel as if you'd died and gone to heaven. "Got 'em!"  
"Good boy," Alex said, checking his watch impatiently, aware of how quickly fifteen minutes ticked away when you were having fun. "Now, I want to see how quickly you can get undressed 'cause, babe, I need this to be fast and furious." That much at least was true.  
There was the sound of clothing being hastily shed. "Naked?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Me too. Let's get this show on the road." It sounded brusque even to him. Fortunately his faithful hound was too intent on scratching his itch to notice. "Stretch out on the bed. That's it. You look so beautiful, babe ... so hot. Can you feel my hand stroking across your chest?" "Mmmm."  
"That's it. I'm gonna play with your nipples now. I'm gonna make them hard and watch them turn rosy red. Feeling good, sweetheart?" "Oh yeah."  
"I'm gonna pinch them now ... roll them between my fingers ... that's it ... now a tad harder ... harder still ... I want to hurt them a little ... hurt them in a good way. You don't mind if I make them hurt, do you, Fox?" He could hear the hiss of a breath being sucked in through clenched teeth. "Not too much hurt, baby," he warned. "Just enough to make them real sensitive when I scrap my nails over them." "Unnngh ... Oh Alex ... do it again."  
"I'm doing it, babe. Can't you feel it? Just the way you like." Just the way I like too, Alex thought, clenching his teeth as he resisted the urge to be a copycat. "Feels good ... so good," Fox murmured. "You're good, baby. Ready for more?"  
"Uh-huh ... "  
"I'm running my hands down your chest ... over your belly ... down to your groin ... " "Are you touching my dick?"  
"Not yet, sweetheart, but soon."  
"Soon ... "  
"Get the lube and coat your fingers."  
There was the squeak of a bed spring and the rustle of bedclothes. "Move it along, Fox, my boy's ready to rock and roll." A groan resounded down the line.  
"I'm starting to open you up ... just one finger ... but I'm going in deep." The groan became a continuous moan.  
"You feel like you're ready for more, babe ... I'm putting in a second finger ... that's it ... I can't believe how hot you are ... and how tight." " ... want you ... "  
"I know, baby. Get me ready. Lots of lube - quick as you can." He waited all of thirty seconds.  
"Ready, Fox?"  
"Yeah ... ready now."  
"Okay, sweetheart ... can you feel me ... right where you want me to be ... teasing you ... making it good?" "Oh yeah ... its good."  
"I'm pushing in now ... just a little ... saying hello." There was a breathy sigh.  
"I'm gonna push in all the way now, baby, in one smooth stroke. That okay?" "Uh-huh."  
"Here I come then, Fox ... that's it ... you're so deep, baby ... and so hot ... and so very, very tight ... " "S'good ... s'fucking good ... "  
"Gonna get better, babe. I've got your dick in my hand. Can you feel my fingers stroking your dick, Fox?" A deep rumbling groan greeted the suggestion. "I'm gonna let go and thrust now, babe. It's gonna be hard and fast ... just the way you want it." The sounds coming down the phone line were nothing short of pornographic as Fox began fucking himself with a vengeance. Alex's frustration grew in inverse proportion to lover's full-throated abandonment. It was just reaching critical mass when from somewhere in the distance a call of "Alex, dinner's nearly ready," reached his ears. The intensity of what was happening between him and Fox made the words difficult to process but eventually their significance dawned on him. "Oh shit," he murmured.  
"Alex?"  
"Don't stop, Fox ... I'm close, baby ... just one more thrust ... hard against your sweet spot ... that's all I need ..." "Aaaarrgh ... "  
" ... feel my hand ... fisting your dick ... makin' it happen ... " "ALEX!!" Fox yelled as he came.  
"Alex!" Walter called as he started up the stairs. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Alex chanted as he leapt into the shower and wrenched it on. The blast of ice cold water that hit him, stopped his heart in mid-beat and robbed him of breath. It had no effect whatsoever on his rock hard dick. From the phone held high above his head he could hear Fox babbling. "... fuck ... that was incredible ... " He angled away from the flow of water and put the phone back to his ear. "You're the best, Fox ... um ... think I hear room service, babe ... gotta go ... talk to you soon." "Sure, sweetheart, love yo-"  
Mulder's declaration was cut short when the phone suddenly acquired the properties of a bar of soap and popped out of the top of Alex's hand. Helplessly, he watched it go skittering around the shower cubicle till it came to rest in the torrent of water disappearing down the plughole. "Oh fuck!"  
There was the distinctive snick of the bathroom door opening and he glanced up through the glass of the shower to see his lover enter the room, carrying an armful of discarded clothing. "Don't they have showers in New York?" Walter asked in an indulgent tone. At that moment the hot water, set to Walter's preferred skin peeling temperature, finally kicked in, causing Alex to yelp as he leapt back out of the shower. Walter stared at him in surprise, then his eyes tracked unerringly downwards to take in his aroused state. A huge grin spread across his face. "Getting reacquainted with the shower massager, Alex?" he asked. Reaching the end of his tether, Alex reached back into the cubicle and turned off the water with silent deliberation, then he launched himself full force at his lover, sending them both stumbling backwards into the bedroom. "What the hel-"  
An insistent mouth latched onto his, cutting off the sentence. Dropping the clothes, Walter slid his arms around the younger man's wet, eager body. In free fall, they toppled back onto the bed. Alex landing heavily on top. "Ooof!"  
Alex's tongue retreated just long enough to let Walter draw in a much needed breath, then returned to the assault. Without once breaking lip contact they writhed around on the bed until they had managed to free Walter from his pants and boxers and had pushed them far enough down his thighs to give Alex the access he demanded. Fully aroused and eager for his lover's cock, Walter ended the kiss and turned over onto his belly He reached up and snagged a couple of pillows to raise up his hips, uncovering the condom and lube that the eagle scout in him had positioned strategically that morning. Alex reached for them and it wasn't long before he was sliding deep inside his willing partner with the sureness of a welcome and experienced lover. The urgency receded a little then, the heat did not. "Move with me," Alex murmured into the back of Walter's neck, between kisses and licks. "Mmmm ... touch me"  
Closing the loop, Alex reached below his lover to take his cock in hand, giving them both everything they needed. It took only an embarrassingly short length of time for each of them to reach a satisfying climax. Something that cost neither of them a thought as Alex rolled off Walter's back and the two of them settled into the post-orgasmic glow. As his breathing returned to normal, Alex became aware of something hard and rough beneath his shoulder. Curious, he levered himself up to take a look. There lying on the sheet, looking only a little the worse for wear, was his other, forgotten coconut crme cookie. "Mmm," he muttered, pleased with his find. He bit into it with relish. "What ... ?" Walter demanded, sitting up in time to see half of the big cookie disappear into Alex's mouth. He reached over crossly to take the remaining half from his lover. "Uh-uh," Alex warned, squirming away to guard his cookie. Walter followed and caught Alex round the waist in an arm lock. It was like catching hold of a wildcat but he held on with determination. They wrestled back and forth across the bed until Walter managed to pin Alex to the mattress on his back. His grin of triumph was short-lived, however, when Alex stuffed what remained of the crumbled cookie into his mouth and gave him a smug, vindicated look. "Your loss, Alex," Walter scolded, "if your appetite for dinner-." He went completely still.  
"Dinner," he murmured. "Oh shit!"  
Leaping up, he shed his chaotic clothing, grabbed a robe and went hurtling out of the bedroom. Alex lay on the bed for a few minutes, savouring his satisfied condition then he got up to retrieve the ruined cell phone from the shower plughole. Thanks to their unscheduled 'quickie', dinner was a more leisurely paced affair than might otherwise have been the case. Fortunately, none of the delicious food had been spoiled and the combination of simple, yet sophisticated ingredients, bought fresh and cooked from scratch, burst to life on Alex's palate. Blissed out on his second helping of home-baked apple pie, he found himself reflecting philosophically on the karma that had gifted him with two such disparate lovers- one who kept house like Martha Stewart and cooked like Jamie Oliver and one who kept house like Homer Simpson and cooked like ... Homer Simpson. One who scheduled dental appointments and one who arranged to have your aura photographed. One who remembered to send a birthday card and one who sometimes forgot to come home. He couldn't help but be awed by the cosmic balance of it - stability and capriciousness in equal measure. It was like living half your life on the set of 'Little House on the Prairie' and the other half on the set of 'Malcolm in the Middle'. It was the best of all possible worlds. It was perfect.  
It was meant to be.   
Taking their coffee to the family room, they stretched out together on the couch and exchanged news and kisses. If Walter even noticed that as usual, ninety per cent of the news came from him, then he didn't make an issue of it. He was more than content to dwell on the ample supply of Bureau politics and gossip. When it was exhausted, he turned his mind to planning their week together, starting with his next, big, exciting project - moving their boat into dry dock so they could scrap and repaint the hull. There was never any planning with Fox. Each morning began with a clean sheet. A day could be spent in bed or driving five hundred kilometres, there and back, to try out a new roller coaster ride. There was the occasional project, however ... ... Mulder was peering into the fish tank, a frown of concern on his face. "Something wrong?"  
"Yeah, I'm worried about Molly. I think she's depressed." He pointed to one of the fish, who did, admittedly, look a little 'out of it'. "Maybe she's sick," Alex suggested, trying to muster the required interest. "Uh-uh, I took her to the vet last week." At that point, Alex's interest expired and he settled down on the couch with his mug of coffee and the New York Times. Mulder continued to sit, staring trance-like for nearly an hour, then he suddenly erupted into a frenzy of activity. "What?" Alex asked, as he watched his lover burrow into the hall closet. A tennis racket with several strings missing, a bee-keeper's hat and fifty back issues of 'Ufology Illustrated' slid out onto the rug. "I'm gonna take her to see the ocean."  
**"WHAT?"**  
In response, Mulder emerged from the depths of the closet holding up a large, rubberized underwater flashlight. "This'll do," he said, beginning to dismantle it. "Do for what?"  
"Mobile fish tank," he answered, leaving Alex speechless. Several hours later, togged out in full scuba gear, they were introducing Molly to her wild cousins in the waters off New Dorp beach. It turned out to be a great day for them all, especially Molly, who gazed transfixed out of her glass porthole at the wonders of the deep and who, Alex was forced to concede, seemed much perkier on her return home ... "... by the way, I got you that 'hands free' kit for your mobile," Walter was saying. "Hmmm?" Alex asked, tuning back into the conversation. "Remember, I mentioned it last month? It's the model recommended by 'Which'. " "Oh yeah, I remember."  
Of course he remembered. The lecture on his potential over-exposure to radiation from his cell phone had gone on for a very long time. "Thanks, Walter, I'll check it out tomorrow," he said, genuinely touched by his lover's concern. How could you not love someone who spent so much time worrying about your brain? " ... check this out!" Mulder said, fumbling in his pocket for his car keys as they made their way out of a Manhattan club at three in the morning, totally wired. He placed the locking mechanism against his temple and pressed the button. The lights on the car, still almost 200 metres away, flickered responsively and the security device chirruped as it disengaged. "Wow!" Alex said. "Let me try."  
"Here."  
Alex took the keys and pressed the button. He felt a fleeting tingle inside his skull as the car relocked itself. "Shit, that is so cool!"  
He tried it again, several times. The tingling in his head became more pronounced. "How far away will it work?"  
"Don't know for sure. Wanna find out?"  
"Yeah."  
They carried out an empirical experiment right there and then, moving further and further away from the car until they were out of range. To Alex's great satisfaction, they discovered that his head was a significantly better transmitter than Mulder's. By the time they had finished, the tingle had become a pleasant buzz. They called it a night then, and Mulder began the long drive home. Dawn was breaking as they pulled up into the driveway. When Mulder pressed the locking mechanism, they both felt a shadow of a tingle. They grinned at each other and Alex slid his arm around his lover's neck, pulling him close. How could you not love someone who knew such cool ways to fry your brain? Walter's tongue in his ear ended the daydream. "Wanna go to bed?" Alex asked.  
"I could be persuaded," Walter whispered directly into his ear. "Let's go."  
Alex stood up and pulled Walter with him towards the stairs. They took their time, Walter in the driving seat, Alex compliant and responsive. It set the tone of the rest of their week together. Being so attuned to each other, they made a good team and by Sunday lunchtime, they had the boat in dry dock, ready to begin the renovation. They worked on it two further evenings when Walter got home from the office and once they went out to dinner. The rest of the time they spent quietly at home, watching TV or making love. When Friday rolled around, Walter finished work early so he could drive Alex to the airport. They kissed and said goodbye in the car park. "See you in two weeks, babe," Alex told him, reaching into the back seat for his bag. Walter's expression turned wistful and Alex leaned in for another kiss. "I'll call you tonight, Walter," he promised. "I'll be waiting."  
Downtown San Francisco  
That evening ...  
Alex turned the key in the lock and flicked on the light switch. The apartment was warm and welcoming. He dropped his bag on the floor and keyed in the alarm code. Closing and locking the door, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then rolled his neck to release the tension that had built up during the flight from Dulles and the taxi ride in from the airport. Feeling re-focussed, he moved methodically through each of the rooms, turning on lights and checking that everything was in its proper place. In the salon he activated the stereo system and selected a hot jazz play list. Finding the remote, he opened the drapes on the floor to ceiling windows to reveal the apartment's magnificent view of the cityscape. He stood watching it for a while, enjoying the exhilarating kaleidoscope of colours and shapes. Turning away, he went to the kitchen, where he uncorked a bottle of vintage Antinori Solaia and took a wine glass from a cabinet. Back in the salon, he settled in his black Charles Eames recliner and poured himself a glass of the mellow, full bodied wine. He sipped at it appreciatively for several minutes before lifting the receiver to make the first of the two calls he needed to make that night. The phone was answered immediately.  
"Hello, babe ... " he began.  
Upstate New York  
Two days later  
Fox Mulder lined up the dart on the nose of his editor, or rather on where the nose would have been, if the man's photograph hadn't been vandalized by repeated use as a dartboard. He fine tuned his aim and let the missile fly. "Yes!" he shouted, punching the air as it landed accurately on target. It joined the other two darts already decorating Gerry's nasal region. Mulder thought about walking over and retrieving them for another go but it suddenly seemed like too much of an effort. He glanced over at the flashing cursor on his computer screen. Yep, the god damned thing was still trying to communicate with him, using all of its two word vocabulary - 'Type something!'  
'Type something!'  
'Type something!'  
He glanced away.  
His bowl of sunflower seeds was empty. The new packet was in the refrigerator - all the way out there in the kitchen. It may as well have been on the far side of the Moon. He picked up a pencil and pushed back against his chair until he was stretched out almost vertical. Above him the plaster of the ceiling was pock-marked with a hundred or more little craters marking where all the previous pencils had failed to connect. He gave it his best shot anyhow. The pencil rebounded ineffectually, before nearly skewering him through his Adam's apple on its return journey to terra firma. "Shit!" he complained, to the empty room. He closed his eyes and was confronted by blankness - an image even more terrifying than a talkative cursor. He bounced back upright with a thump and reached for the TV remote. The Ricki Lake show would be on in five minutes. For some, as yet unexplained, reason it always cranked his creative cogs into gear. He thumbed the on button and selected the channel. "Welcome to the news on WJEBTV. This is Steven Warden, bringing you all the local and national stories making the headlines this Wednesday lunch time. Top of the news is a breaking story out of San Francisco. Mayor Gavin Newsom, began issuing "gender neutral" marriage licenses this morning, saying he believed it was appropriate to start the process of giving out marriage licenses before the city goes to court to challenge the state's marriage laws. Apparently, two dozen gay couples have already arrived to fill in the necessary paperwork. There is an unmistakeable feeling of urgency down at City Hall, as many of the would-be newlyweds believe this to be a limited window of opportunity, but that is not detracting in any way from the excitement and happiness they are feeling. International reaction so far has been mixed. In Cambodia, the king announced that he thinks gay couples should be allowed to marry. He said Cambodia became a liberal democracy in 1993 and it should allow a marriage between a man and man, or between a woman and woman. Closer to home, California's Attorney General says he's preparing to take action to defend laws that say the state will recognise only marriages between a man and a woman - " Mulder sat riveted to the screen, watching the happy couples hug and kiss as they publicly celebrated their love. He felt a sharp pang of emotion in his gut. He didn't think it was envy, but he couldn't be certain. The images were fleeting but they showed people who were sure of each other and of where their lives were going, and his reaction to them was so intense he felt it as a physical sensation. He turned off the TV and leaned back, his hands behind his head. In the silence, his thoughts travelled down an avenue previously unexplored. Its name was 'Commitment'. Whatever it was he shared with Alex, it wasn't commitment and for the first time in his life the thought of not being committed to the person he loved was scarier than the thought of taking the plunge. Taking the plunge?   
Why not?  
Two months before, he had celebrated his thirty-eighth birthday. Half a lifetime already gone and little to show for it apart from the mortgage on his house. Maybe it was time to put down some roots. Especially since he'd finally admitted to himself that Alex was 'the one'. Their almost year together had been great. So great, in fact, that it was getting harder and harder to accept the part time nature of the relationship. Waking up beside Alex every morning would be well worth the sacrifice of a little independence. He wasn't exactly sure how a full time relationship would work for them in practice, but that was something they could figure out together. He came to a decision, it was time to dust off one of his Bureau suits, to do some growing up and to go show Alex he was serious about their relationship. Filled with his own exclusive brand of single-minded enthusiasm, he began searching for the first available flight to San Francisco. ooo00O00ooo  
Walter Skinner heard the thump of the newspaper as it hit the front door. He put down his coffee cup and went to fetch it. Scanning through it on his way back to the kitchen, the headline on the second page stopped him dead in his tracks. **'SAN FRANCISCO'S MAYOR GIVES THE GO-AHEAD FOR GAY MARRIAGES'** Reading it made his stomach flip over. Taken unaware by the bluntness of the words, he found himself eye to eye with a truth he had been avoiding for a long time. This was what was missing from his relationship with Alex. It was everything his conventional, old fashioned nature most wanted, the hearts and flowers, the confetti and champagne - the whole nine yards. After all, they'd already made the commitment, why shouldn't they have the opportunity to stand up together and show the whole world how much they loved each other on their wedding day and on each and every day that followed? He was forty-eight years old. That was way too old to be afraid, or ashamed. Maybe it was too old for Alex - who could be a tad high maintenance, if he was being completely honest - but he was sure they could make it work. It was certainly worth the risk. He came to a decision, it was time to dig out the ridiculous Dior Homme outfit Alex had bought for him and to go teach his lover a lesson in romance. Smiling, he lifted the phone and dialled the office. ooo00O00ooo  
"What do you think of the goings on down at City Hall?" Alex's tax lawyer asked him at the conclusion of their breakfast meeting. Alex shrugged. "I've been too busy putting this deal together," he said, tapping his pen on the balance sheet before him. "Then you're missing all the fun. Newsom's been handing out marriage licenses to gays. It's like a three ring circus down there." "That so?" he answered, with studied disinterest. "Anyhow," the man said, dropping the subject, "I'll tidy up the details in the contract and send you a copy by the close of the business tomorrow." Alex nodded and gathered the papers into his briefcase. On his way out of the Mark Hopkins, he picked up a copy of the San Francisco Daily. The story was splashed across the front page. He scanned it as he waited for the valet to bring his Bertone round. It perplexed him. Why did people want this? As far as he was concerned it was only adding an unnecessary complication to something that was appealingly simple. In his experience, that was usually a recipe for disaster. He tipped the valet and tossed the newspaper and his briefcase into the passenger seat of the sports car. His final thought on the matter as he drove away towards the beach house was one of relief that neither of his men would ever be interested in such weirdness, because if they were, it could put a serious wrinkle in his own personal version of paradise. ooo00O00ooo  
He was just turning onto Ocean Drive when his cell phone chirped to indicate the arrival of a text message. Pulling up at a stop light he brought it up on screen. 'meet me city hall noon fox'  
He stared at the six words until the driver behind put his hand on the horn and left it there. Jolted out of his abstraction by the unholy racket, he pulled away, looking for somewhere to make the turn back towards the city. ooo00O00ooo  
Mulder was standing, fidgeting uneasily, at the foot of the steps of City Hall. All around him joyful mayhem was in progress. Every twenty minutes or so, a couple would appear at the top of the steps; and wild cheering and clapping would break out. Every time it happened, his heart flip-flopped between euphoria and terror. Only the knowledge that Alex was already on his way kept him there - well, that and a case of 'cold feet' so bad, that he didn't think he had the ability to walk away. Just then he spotted his lover, hurrying towards him, a grim look on his face. The expression made his heart sink, but his concern was superseded by trying to figure out why Walter Skinner was jogging to catch up with Alex, calling his name to attract his attention. "Alex!" Skinner shouted.  
Alex stopped and stared at Mulder, his confusion plainly evident. He looked round at Skinner, then back to Mulder. For all three of them, reality slowed down to a crawl, unlike their thoughts which went into overdrive. It took only a few seconds for Mulder and Skinner to make all the jig saw pieces fit neatly in place and when they did, time resumed its normal pace, releasing them from their state of shock. "I'm sorry ... I'm sorry ... " Alex began, looking from one to the other. Mulder's pain was quickly hidden and he looked at his lover contemptuously. "I'd call you a whore, Alex, if I wasn't afraid of bringing the word into disrepute." Mulder's words cut deep, making Alex draw in a painful, jagged breath. Walter's face wore a blank look. He said nothing. Instead he crumpled the licence application into a tight ball and threw it on the ground. That hurt more.  
They turned away from him at the same moment and walked off in opposite directions. He watched one, then the other disappear, unable to call out, unable to move. Eventually, the paralysis that had taken hold of him relented and he sat down heavily. On either side of him, happy, excited couples and their friends jogged up and down the stone steps, while he, lost and rudderless, watched multi-coloured drifts of confetti sweep themselves up into little dunes around his feet. ooo00O00ooo  
Sahara Desert, Tunisia  
Six months later  
Alex Krycek checked the read out on the GPS monitor and was relieved to find he was less than an hour from his final destination. Through the gutra kufiyyah, bound tightly round his head and across his face, he breathed a weary sigh. No part of the pilgrimage had been easy. His decision to forego the pampered comfort of a first class airline seat in favour of a cargo vessel and the good will of a succession of truck drivers, had seen to that, but the searing daytime temperatures, the sub-zero nights and the slow progress of the evil-natured camel who bore his weight ungraciously had tested his resolve to its limit. Still, it was nearly at an end and he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the ache in his body caused by the constant, swaying gait of the camel. His guide, some fifty metres up ahead, suddenly shouted a command at the animal he was riding and reined it in. Awkwardly, the camel went down on its knees to allow him to dismount. The guide came towards Alex, gesturing and talking rapidly in Arabic. Alex strained to make sense of the tirade. From the few words he recognised, it became clear that the man had travelled as far as he intended to go. To emphasis his point, he caught hold of the camel's rein and, using his stick, he brought the animal to its knees. Unable to do anything else, Alex clambered out of the uncomfortable saddle and began untying his backpack from the rear pommel. The man started talking again, his hand outstretched. Alex reached into the folds of his outer robe and took out the exact number of dollars he'd agreed with the man at the beginning of the journey. The man accepted the notes and counted them carefully. Satisfied, he tucked them into his money belt and struck the camel repeatedly until it stood up. He led it back to his own animal, which he mounted quickly and brought to its feet. Shouting a farewell to Alex, he turned back in the direction from which they had come. Alex took out his water bottle and drank deeply. After returning the precious bottle to his pack, he re-bound his scarf and stood watching until the man and the two camels melted away into the shimmering haze that hovered above the sand. Now completely alone in the vast silent space that encircled him, he steeled himself for the long walk ahead, shouldered his backpack and set off. The sun was setting when he felt the first shudder of recognition. It told him he had arrived, and that what he sought was nearby - somewhere ahead and to the right. He turned his weary footsteps in the required direction and ploughed on. Step by step, the shuddering increased until it became almost unbearable. It felt as if each of the billions of cells in his body was vibrating in a different direction from all the others. Using the unpleasant sensation as a guide, he tracked the perimeter of the force field until he found what he was looking for - the way in. For a space of about two metres, the sensation doubled in intensity. He backed away from it immediately in instinctive self-preservation. Putting about fifty metres between him and the energy envelope he sat down on the sand, in a place where the sensation was tolerable, but where his presence could not be overlooked - at least that's what he hoped. By then, it was already dark and was starting to get cold. He peered straight ahead, searching for any telltale sign of the craft that lay before him. There was none. It was as silent and as invisible in the night, as it had been in daylight. He fumbled through his pack until he found the wool galabayya. Wrapping it round his body, he huddled to preserve his body heat and settled down to wait. Nothing happened, and all through the long, bitterly cold night and the long, blisteringly hot day that followed he continued to wait. There was little else to do, since he had freely chosen to place himself at the mercy of the black creature that had once possessed and used him. So he just went on waiting - and as he waited he tried to remember the reason that had brought him to this god forsaken place - and tried to forget the arid desert his life had become on the day he had made Fox and Walter hate him - for the second time. Halfway through the second night, when it felt as if the blood in his veins was turning to ice, he began to drift away, upward towards the starry sky. That was when he noticed the yellow glow. It was directly ahead - then inexplicably it was all around him, making him feel warm and safe. He tired to explain what it was he wanted, but someone who knew him better than he knew himself was talking, right there inside his head, telling him it understood, telling him it would be as he wanted. He tried to say thank you, but the rapid approach of oblivion made the words impossible. The port of Douz, Tunisia  
Six months later  
They parted for the first time ever on the quayside at Douz, in an embrace that matched bone for bone, sinew for sinew, thought for thought so perfectly that they no longer knew for certain who was the original and who was the copy. They didn't say goodbye. They couldn't. It hurt too much for words. ooo00O00ooo  
Elk Ridge, Alberta, Canada  
17th February  
Walter Skinner finished his fourth cup of morning coffee and glanced over at the hopper beside the big fireplace. It was almost empty. Reluctantly, he set aside his book and threw the remaining logs on the fire. He took his down jacket from the hook by the door and pulled it on. Picking up the hopper, he headed out into the cold. He hadn't even gotten as far as the porch steps when he caught sight of the one person in the world he had hoped never to see again. The same person who never left his thoughts. They stared at each other for a little while, in complete silence. Then Walter continued on his way to the log pile, filled the hopper and returned to the warmth of the house, passing by Alex Krycek as if he wasn't there. The door slammed resoundingly shut. San Diego, California  
17th February  
Fox Mulder cursed and pulled over to the hard shoulder. There it was, the fucking sign that was driving him nuts! What did it mean? Who had put it there? Why couldn't he just ignore it like the two million other people who drove past it every day without blinking an eyelid? He thumped the steering wheel in frustration. Okay ! Enough was enough, he needed some answers. Taking a calming breath, he settled back into his seat and let his gaze come to rest on the thirteen black and grey striped digits, set boldly against the warm, sunflower yellow background. He turned his mind free ... searching for clues ... searching for patterns ... He noticed it almost immediately, the very slight variation in gap size between the numbers. It had the affect of placing the digits into groups - a group of four digits - a group of three digits - a group of six digits. Suddenly, it seemed childishly simple - a time - a date - a place. He turned on the car's position finder and tapped in the numbers. The location was familiar and reasonably nearby. He checked his watch. He could just about make it, if he put his foot down. Elk Ridge  
Late afternoon  
Walter was pacing up and down the hallway. He had tried ignoring the presence outside. It hadn't worked. Neither had completing every one of the tasks on his 'to do' list with the kind of attention to detail that would have made an obsessive compulsive happy. On his two hundredth pass of the loudly ticking grandfather clock, his stomach growled, reminding him of the time and of the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He went into the kitchen and began preparing supper. He chose a recipe that was complicated and labour intensive. When the dish was finally ready to go in the oven, he noticed how dark it was getting. He turned on the light and pulled the window shade down. The clean up was finished too quickly and he flicked on the radio. Cheerful music filled the kitchen and he sat down at the kitchen table and picked up his book. Soon the air was perfumed with the smell of slow cooking beef stroganoff. 'Half Way There Cafe'  
Outside of San Diego  
California  
Mulder pulled up in a haze of dust outside the biker cafe. He got out and walked towards the entrance. The sound of a bike being revved at the far end of the car park caught his attention. He glanced over towards it. It was a superb Harley Davidson. A classic, in mint condition. Sitting astride it, dressed in black leather from head to foot was Alex Krycek. As he watched, a wicked, knowing smile spread slowly across the bastard's beautiful face, giving him the boyish look Mulder found completely irresistible. He returned the smile, he couldn't help himself. Seeing it, Alex revved the bike and steered it smoothly over to where Mulder stood. Stopping in front of him, he revved the engine twice more and nodded towards the space behind him. Without hesitation, Mulder climbed on, bringing their bodies as close together as was humanly possible and slid his arms possessively around Alex's waist. The familiar scent and feel of his lover overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the soft, sable waves. Laughing aloud, Alex opened the throttle and they took off along the open highway. Neither of them had a particular destination in mind, though they both knew exactly were they were headed. Elk Ridge  
Early evening  
The meal was ready. Walter's serving was on the table before him. He sat watching it get cold. "Listen up, folks," the DJ on the local station said, breaking into a mournful country song, "we've just received a severe weather warning from the boys in the Weather Bureau. Looks like we're in for blizzard conditions over the next few hours, so make sure you've battened down the hatches and have your emergency supplies on standby." Walter stood up abruptly and walked over to the window. He tugged too hard on the string of the shade and it went clattering upward, before wrapping around on itself, again and again in a demented fashion. Walter ignored it and peered outside. Big, fluffy snowflakes, falling heavy and fast, glimmered white against the blackness of the night. "Fuck it," he said with quiet resignation. He opened the back door and made his way to the front yard through the thick carpet of snow that had already gathered. Taking hold of his human icicle by the scruff of the neck, he manhandled Alex into the house. When they reached the kitchen, he unceremoniously stripped his lover out of his cold, wet clothes, wrapped him in a down comforter and sat him in the chair next to the fire. Filling a bowl from the casserole in the oven, he brought it over to Alex and began feeding him slowly. When it was finished, he handed his lover a mug of hot tea. He was relieved to find that the hand in which it was placed had finally stopped trembling and that the bluish tinge had disappeared from the beautiful face. He poured a cup of tea for himself and sat down opposite Alex. A pair of worried green eyes left off staring into the mug and glanced up to meet his own. "Forgiven?" Alex asked, softly.  
"And forgotten," Walter answered in a determined tone. The final word on the matter had been spoken. The choices had been made.  
The future was theirs for the taking.  
finis   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Claire Dobbin


End file.
